


I Never Could Have Won This Fight

by eddiewrites307



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, M/M, Mild Language, Someone Help Will Graham, Supernatural Elements, credit in the authors note, hannibal is halfway decent, hannibal is not human, jack crawford is a little bitch, nothing is clarified, oof, that someone will be hannibal, this is from a tumblr prompt, unspecified creature, weird mythology au, what do you expect, will graham rapidly gets darker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiewrites307/pseuds/eddiewrites307
Summary: When Will was sent by Jack Crawford to kill the fearsome beast that had killed off every warrior so far, he more than expected his death. What he didn't expect, however, was for this creature to actually like him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 210
Collections: Hannibal





	I Never Could Have Won This Fight

Will Graham stood in front of the cave he knew held an ancient evil, something many men had tried to kill only to get torn apart for their efforts. He shifted, knuckles white as he grabbed his wooden stake in one hand, long dagger in the other, holding on with all his strength. Will stared into the darkness that seemed to leak from the caves opening, every instinct in his mind screaming at him to go, to leave, to save himself before it was too late. He didn’t even know how he ended up in this situation to begin with.

No, scratch that. He knew exactly how. 

Jack Crawford.

~   


_ “Will, you’ve got to do this for me.” _ _  
_

_ “No, Jack.” It was rare that anyone opposed Jack; the man was well-renowned in their town for being steady and stubborn as a brick wall. But Will was just as stubborn, and didn’t give a damn about the societal convention that beckoned him to listen to the older man. _

_ Jack sighed. He knew Will would be against this, but that doesn’t mean he’d give up trying. “You’re the only one who could possibly understand what he’s thinking. Your empathy gives you the opportunity to tell what he’s going to do and to attack accordingly.” _ _  
_

_ “So I should risk my life and sanity?” Will shot back, eyes darting up to meet Jack’s before falling to the ground once more, a sign that he was bending, slowly giving in. _

_ Jack grinned to himself. He knew how this would turn out. “People are dying, Will. You could save them, be the hero.” _ _  
_

_ Will hesitated. _

_ He wasn’t the hero type, that was for certain. He was rude, antisocial. He had no desire to be a hero. However...the allure of saving lives was a difficult one to ignore, especially knowing it could make the others see him as human, as more than the insanity that was his mind. _

_ “Fine. I’ll do it.” _ _  
_

~   


So here he stood, weaponry sliding in his sweaty palms, knowing perfectly well that today may very well be his last. 

What a lovely thought that was.

Will snorted, shaking his head as though to get rid of the fears and anxieties that wouldn’t abandon him, and stepped inside the cave.

The first thing he noticed was that it was dark. Like, incredibly dark, more so than it should’ve been with the sun at its highest point outside. Will turned the way he came, to see if he could catch a glimpse of said sun, but he got nothing. The second thing he noticed was the music. 

The sound was a brittle one, something Will couldn’t have put a name to if he tried, and the music sounded akin to something you’d hear during one of those horrifically formal concerts, the type Will had never set foot in.

It had to be the creature.

Will followed the sound, blinking rapidly as light once more flooded his vision. He had been unconsciously following the sound of the music, the dark timbers rattling something in his mind. The sound had brought him to a room, a very large one that didn’t look anything like a cave should. The carpet alone probably cost more than Will’s mortgage, and there were macabre decorations littered around in what appeared to be a careless way, but was undoubtedly carefully calculated in their placement. Will was squinting at a framed drawing on the wall -- was that the last guy who had come here with delusions of grandeur? -- when a cool voice broke through his thoughts.

“It’s dreadfully rude to enter one’s home without knocking, you know.” What a voice it was, deep and smooth with an indefinable accent, something European probably, but that was never Will’s strong suit. Will turned his gaze onto the speaker, trying his best not to cringe backwards when he got hit with the waves of pure  _ danger alpha murder dominance  _ rolling off of the creature.

He didn’t look overly dangerous, in a deep blue three-piece suit. He looked older than Will, with slightly greying hair brushed back from his angular face -- god, those cheekbones could cut glass, couldn’t they? It took Will a second to gather enough courage to look into his eerily maroon eyes, and he immediately regretted it when he saw the utter blankness there. Nothing to be easily read.

Will fell into a weak defensive position, lifting the dagger so he could strike if the creature got too close, wishing uselessly that he had ever learned how to actually fight. He noted that he had started to shake when the creature prowled closer to him, lifting his nose and sniffing.

Christ above,  _ please _ don’t be smelling Will, that is so weird…

“You smell delectable, despite that horrible aftershave.” The creature informed him, lips curling up in what could possibly be classified as a smile. Then, suddenly, he frowned, looking at Will’s stance. “Have you ever been taught how to fight?” Moving faster than he should be able to, the creature was suddenly behind Will, holding onto his arms and gently correcting his grip on both the stake and the dagger. “There. I take it you’re here to kill me, perhaps now it will be interesting, yes?” Another blink, and the creature was now in front of Will once more, arms open wide in invitation. “Do me a favor, my dear boy, and take the first swing.”   


Will tilted his head, unsure how to take this offer, and took a second to look as closely as he dared, peering into the creature’s eyes to see himself being read as well.

_ This is my design. _

Will lunged, aiming for the throat with the dagger, knowing it wouldn’t do any lasting damage but hoping it would give enough distraction that he could get another opening. The creature easily dodged, gripping Will by the wrist and flinging him bodily across the room. Will let out a hiss as he shakily got back to his feet, head aching from where it had slammed into the wall, determination turning to panic as he realized his weaponry had been torn from his hands.

“That was pitiful,” the creature observed, flipping Wills dagger in his hand. “I fear to imagine what dear Uncle Jack was thinking when he sent you.” He was frowning again, as though actually concerned as to how Will got there, and Will was hit with the sudden realization that this creature really did not seem to want him dead.

But the bodies were piling up outside this cave, and the wooden stake was only a few feet away, and a plan was being formed in Will’s head.

He dove for the stake with a prayer on his lips, closing his fingers around it just as a solid weight slammed into his back, effectively pinning him to the floor. 

“I sincerely hope you didn’t underestimate me enough to think that would work,” the creature whispered in his ear, and Will could barely repress a shudder and he bucked underneath the creature, wriggling in his grip until they were chest-to-chest and he could aim the stake at the creatures chest.

The creature sighed, as though tired by Will’s flailing, and grabbed his wrist in order to pluck the stake from his grasp and fling it behind him. Will watched it fall out of his sight with a look of horror. He was completely weaponless, helpless. He had failed. 

He made eye contact with the creature, in mild awe of how simple it was to do so. “You gonna kill me now?” He knew the answer. He was bleeding from his head, his back and left side were covered in bruising, and he was pinned in a supernaturally strong grip. He shut his eyes, and prepared for the end.

But the creature hesitated.

Will’s eyes popped open, and he took the moment for what it was -- a chance. He flung the creature off of him, scrambling for where he thought the stake had fallen, and let out a wounded cry when the creature grabbed him by his arm -- bruised, possibly broken -- and pulled him back into his chest.

“Shh, it’s alright,” the creature said, and Will stopped struggling out of pure confusion. “You’re doing beautifully, I’m very proud. But that’s enough now.” A hand started passing over Will’s curls, blood-matted from his date with the wall, and he struggled not to go limp in the creature's arms. “It was cruel of them to make you fight me -- you could never have won. It’s not your fault.”

Will’s head was spinning, trying to comprehend what was going on. The creature, sensing the fight leaving him, lowered Will to the ground, rearranging them so that Will’s head was still being supported. Finally, he spoke. “You’re not going to kill me?”   


“No,” the creature said. “I would much prefer you live. You interest me, and I wish to know what led Jack to send such an underprepared fighter into my home.” He started to pet Will’s hair again, and, sensing no malice from the creature, Will allowed his eyelids to grow heavy. “May I ask my little fighter’s name?”   


“‘M Will,” he muttered, soft and unsure.

“Hello Will.” The creature smiled, long fingers working to undo a tangle. “My name is Hannibal.”   


~   


When Will woke, he couldn’t tell where he was. He kept his eyes shut, trying to determine who’s incredibly soft sheets he was laying on, what that music was, who’s expensive aftershave he could smell, why on earth he was shirtless.

“I know you’re awake, Will.”   


Shit, right. Man-eating creature in the cave, Jack sending him after it, losing the fight, somehow winning the creature, no, Hannibal’s interest -- or pity -- and staying the night.

What was Will’s life coming to?   


Realizing a tad belatedly that he should respond, Will slowly shifted into a sitting position, ignoring the ache in his head. “Er, morning,” he said weakly, trying not to flinch too obviously when Hannibal turned from his instrument to him.

“Morning.” Hannibal sounded amused. “Do you wish to hear the extent of your injuries?”   


Will blinked. “Sure, why not.”   


Hannibal frowned slightly as he recited the short list he seemed to have committed to memory. “You have a mild concussion, your left arm is broken, there’s severe bruising and mild lacerations on your back and left side. There’s no internal bleeding, which is fortunate, and I was able to wrap your more mild wounds and splint your arm as you slept.”

“Jesus...er, thank you, I mean.” Will fumbled over his words. “You really didn’t have to go through the trouble.”   


“Nonsense,” Hannibal said briskly. “If you are to be staying here, I will provide for you, in any way necessary.”   


Will nodded absently, before his brain caught up with what had been said. “Wait, staying here?”   


“Yes.” Hannibal had a faint look on his face that dared Will to argue, but damn if Will didn’t love arguing.    


“I can’t stay here.”   


“Why not?” The look of danger was growing more prominent -- Hannibal didn’t seem to like being denied -- but Will stood firm.

“I was supposed to kill you,” he said firmly, “not befriend you. I’ve spent too much time out of town already, Jack’s gonna think I’m dead!”   


“He will also believe himself the reason behind that death,” Hannibal said firmly. “He deserves that guilt. You would go back to a people that sends you, with no remarkable fighting skill to speak of, to wage war against me? I am very old, Will, and immeasurably powerful. It is an insult to the both of us to send you here. And if there is one thing I detest, it is rudeness.”

Will bit his lip, not noticing how Hannibal tracked the motion, only noticing the overprotective energy the creature put forth. He had a point, really, it made no sense that Jack would send him, the man knew perfectly well that Will always avoided fighting. Could he really be safer here with Hannibal?

He looked to the creature who had turned back to his instrument in feigned disinterest, and knew his answer, however irrational it may be.

“I’ll stay,” Will said decisively. Hannibal's lips curled into a smile, much more real than the one from yesterday had been, and he continued to play his somber music. “What is that, anyway?”

“It’s a harpsichord,” Hannibal explained. “I find the sound much preferable to that of a piano.” To prove his point, he continued the melody, and Will listened carefully.

“It’s depressing,” he murmured as the last few notes faded into nonexistence. “The song, I mean. Why are you playing it?”   


“It tells the story of a man lost,” Hannibal said, just as quiet as Will, but much stronger. “It is depressing, yes, but in a way that others hear and understand. Do you find yourself lost, Will?”   


“Do you?” Will shot back, bristling slightly. 

There was a beat of silence, then Hannibal smirked, turning in his seat to fully face Will. “My apologies. I am used to making others feel exposed in a purposeful way, it is difficult to turn off, so to speak.”

Will shifted in the bed, suddenly all too aware of just how exposed he was. “It’s fine.”

Was he imagining it, or did Hannibal’s eyes just flicker down his chest?   


Mentally shaking it off, Will fiddled with the blankets covering his lap. “What’s your plan with me?”   


Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”   


“Your plan,” Will pressed. “You seem pretty determined to nurse me back to health. What about after that? Eventually Jack will realize my corpse never showed up with all the others. And what will I eat?”   


To Will’s surprise, Hannibal chuckled at the influx of questions. “Clever boy,” he said fondly, and Will’s face burned. “I am hoping that when Jack realizes you may still be alive, he’ll come after me himself. We have an old score to settle, Jack and I, especially now that I’ve stolen you. And I do intend to keep you.” He flashed a grin at that, all sharp teeth and edges. “As for your eating, don’t fret. I will feed you.”   


“That’s what I’m worried about,” Will grumbled, knowing exactly why the bodies that showed up at the edge of town were often missing bits and pieces.

The shark-like grin grew.

~

Days turned to weeks as time passed, and Will grew to be comfortable and oddly content in Hannibal’s presence. It was a quiet existence, with Hannibal providing for anything Will needed, and even some things he didn’t -- nicer clothes than what he was used to tended to show up, and Hannibal would simply smile an infuriating smile when asked about them. Even the food was incredible, and Will came to terms with the fact that he was eating his fellow man pretty quickly.

It may have something to do with Hannibal’s overpowering presence, but Will had been thinking a lot more about his relationship with the rest of his town. They tolerated him at best, and he returned the sentiment, much preferring the company of his own own home and the dogs within it to that of people. He winced. God, he hoped someone has been taking care of his dogs.

All the people he knew thought he was insane, Will knew that perfectly well. He was inclined to believe them, after all, he got along remarkably well with a creature like Hannibal far too easily for his mental state to be fully intact.

Hannibal had none-too-subtly been pressing the idea that Will was better off destroying them before they could destroy him, especially Jack Crawford, and Will was coming startlingly close to agreeing. Really, what had Jack ever done for him?   


So lost was Will in his musings that he didn’t notice Hannibal, who had been bent over a thick tome of a book, raising his head and inhaling deeply, a faint smile crossing his face. Nor did he hear the faint footsteps coming from the cave entrance, not until they grew louder. Will’s head jerked to face the entrance and it’s unnatural darkness.

“Shit,” he breathed, and Hannibal's hand descended onto his shoulder. 

“Don’t fret, my dear little fighter,” Hannibal said gently, though the expression on his face was anything but. “I will take care of this, and if you wish to be hidden from the fight, I will not fault you for it.”   


God, he was telling the truth, wasn’t he? It was so rare that people didn’t fault Will for wanting to run from everything, but here Hannibal was, not even human yet infinitely more caring than anyone from town ever had been. There was really only one response to be given.

“I’m staying,” Will said fiercely, and earned a dark grin in response. Hannibal pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Will didn’t even get the chance to respond to that before Hannibal was straightening and standing, adopting a casual stance that Will knew hid his raw strength.

Will reached for the dagger that Hannibal had given back to him, which had subsequently been hidden under his pillow, just as a man with brown hair and a casually dangerous expression strutted into the room, making Will wrinkle his nose.

_ Matthew Brown _ .

Matthew was an excessively creepy guy who tried too hard to be an alpha male, and who had a god awful obsession with Will. Will should’ve known it would be this jackass who would volunteer to ‘save’ him.

“Hello,” Hannibal greeted calmly, watching as Matthew’s glance shifted from him to Will and back again. Will could see the distaste on the creature’s face.

“Hello,” Matthew responded, mockingly. “I believe you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Hannibal looked like he was barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. Will didn’t bother with such restraint.

After a few more moments of tense silence, Matthew let out a noise akin to a growl. “Will, get behind me. I’m gonna take this bastard out, then take you home.” He offered Will what he probably thought was a charming smirk, but only succeeded in making Will feel sick to his stomach.

“I’ll stay here, thanks,” Will stated, fingers curling more tightly around the dagger that was still out of sight.

Matthew looked confused, then angry. “Did this freak of nature do something to you?” Before Will could bother answering, Matthew had turned back to Hannibal, grip tightening around the wooden stake in hand. “What did you do to him?”   


“I merely showed him his available options,” Hannibal said calmly, eyes surveying Matthew and obviously not registering much of a threat.

Matthew bristled, and letting out an angered noise, lunged forward at Hannibal and punched him clear in the face. Will sat up straight, nearly out of his seat to help when Hannibal steadied and easily tackled Matthew to the ground. 

The two rolled around, a flurry of flying fists and bloodshed, while Will watched with mounting horror. Why didn’t Hannibal just kill him already?   


Matthew had managed to roll them so he was straddling Hannibal's stomach, restraining his wrists and gloating about how he brought down the great cave creature as he slowly raised the stake. Hannibal wasn’t fighting back, he wasn’t --

He looked at Will and smiled.

_ Oh. _

Will understood. He got to his feet shakily, and padded silently over to where Matthew was still apparently improvising a damn soliloquy about Hannibal’s untimely death, dagger in hand. Matthew, sensing a presence, turned, not letting up in his grip.

“Will? What are you-”   


He abruptly cut himself off with a gargling scream and Will shoved the dagger into his throat, twisting savagely until Matthew released Hannibal in order to try to fight Will off. Will batted his hands aside easily, yanking the dagger out of his throat and watching with wide eyes as the man fell, twitching violently as he bled out on the ridiculously expensive carpet.

“Oh,” Will breathed as he watched Matthew die. There was nothing else to say.

Hannibal stood, making it clear most of his injuries were faked, and wrapped his well-muscled arms around Will, pulling him tight against his chest. “You were beautiful, my darling fighter,” he whispered. “Simply stunning.”

Will stared at the corpse, then the bloodied dagger in his hand, then twisted so he could stare at Hannibal, eyes bright.

“Do you think Jack will come up himself next?”

**Author's Note:**

> When you imagine me writing this fic, I want you to imagine about two hours of hysterical and feverish typing as I desperately try to finish before my inspiration dies
> 
> Tumblr prompt credit to; the-modern-typewriter and hufflepuffkat


End file.
